When Simon-Peter Groebner graduated from his South Jersey high school three years ago, most of his friends went to Penn State or the University of Delaware. Groebner trekked halfway across the country (where, incidentally, it's colder than it is here) to attend the University of Minnesota -- just for Minneapolis' music scene.

It's not surprising that Minneapolis -- the same town that spawned androgynous sex symbol Prince and such college-friendly bands as the Replacements, Husker Du and Soul Asylum -- could easily change its name from the land of 10,000 lakes to the land of 10,000 bands.

Now Groebner is the staff writer for The Minnesota Daily entertainment supplement. He has plenty of insider's choices about what he calls "Minneapopolis" and said most of the city's successful bands follow a kind of "working-class phenomenon."

In a conference of schools whose most visible boosters are the football fans with paw prints painted on their cheeks, Groebner could be seen as some kind of artist-freak exception. But even if he is, he's not the only one -- every school in the Big Ten has collegiates who would rather pick up a microphone than a megaphone.

From the SST-inspired Iowa hardcore to Michigan's techno scene, the Midwest is breeding more than just corn and wheat. The diversity between the coasts spans just about every musical genre.

And a major reason for the diversity from one Big Ten music scene to another is the size of the cities where the schools are located.

Cities such as Minneapolis, Columbus, Ohio, and Madison, Wis., make their Big Ten counterparts State College, Iowa City and West Lafayette, Ind., look like mere villages. Often, the population density reflects the quantity and quality of the respective music scenes.

Techno and hip hop burgeon in Ann Arbor, Mich., home of the University of Michigan Wolverines and Lesbian Waterbed, the latest Ann Arbor techno release.

Ann Arbor is just a hubcap's throw from Detroit, where techno originated, said Ben Ewy, a music reporter for The Michigan Daily. This is the Detroit techno -- industrial and indicative of the Detroit mood -- that European clubs are so fond of importing.

"The people in Detroit are still pretty pissed off and you can tell it in their music," Ewy said, adding that rave information is often available at local record stores.

House music started in Chicago, the metropolitan epicenter for Northwestern University, as a project to bring black and white students together and resulted in sped-up old motown records, Ewy said.

But even being a big city in the Midwest can have its drawbacks. The big complaint in Ann Arbor is that there aren't enough venues. Matt Fitzgerald, an employee of Ann Arbor's Schoolkids Records, who moved from Minneapolis six months ago, said he tends to judge Ann Arbor by Minneapolis' standards.

"I think it's kind of stale here," Fitzgerald said, adding that acoustic and folk music dominates the scene. "There's not like a youth-oriented scene."

But Groebner has his own complaints about Minneapolis -- he wishes it weren't so self-contained.

"We know a whole lot about what's going on on the coasts, but they don't really know what's going on here," he said. ''We're kind of tired of this city-rivalry stuff."

Away from the city warriors, local musicians have found a more nurturing environment in small towns. A warm and supportive atmosphere is an important stepping stone in places such as Iowa City, home of the University of Iowa, where local music isn't always a commodity.

"The local bands seem to be coming out of their nestholes and garages," said Tad Paulson, an arts reporter for The Daily Iowan.

Going public in a small-town environment often means statewide compilations from different Iowa bands, said Barb Schlif, the bassist for Iowa's House of Large Sizes.

And sometimes the towns themselves are stepping stones for local artists and musicians. Bloomington, Ind. -- the population-60,000 town where hometown-hero John Mellencamp is an institution -- is also the home of national college acts such as Antenna and edgy art-rockers Arson Garden.

Musically, Indiana University at Bloomington is parallel to Penn State. Like Happy Valley, the town of blooming bands is divided into two categories: the bar bands that play covers and local original groups that are always popping up.

From the Pixies-esque sound of surf-punk locals Speed Luxury to the all-female messed-up punk sound of the Smears, Bloomington bands have found success signing onto both independent and major record labels.

"It's kind of an incestuous music scene," said Gina McIntyre, the arts editor of the Indiana Daily Student. "Bloomington is a good launching pad for a lot of local bands."

Carl Saff, guitarist for Bloomington's Pencil, said the strength lies in his scene's diversity, not in any particular sound.

"I don't think there's a cohesive sound," said Saff, whose band draws comparisons to Jesus Lizard. "There's a little bit of everything and not enough of some things."

One thing there does seem to be enough of in Bloomington is a commitment to song writing, said April Combs, Arson Garden's singer.

"The bands coming out have a strong sense of creativity and originality," Combs said. "That's why we don't influence each other."

The creativity in Bloomington may be due in part to Indiana University's world-famous School of Music, ranked one of the nation's top music schools by U.S. News and World Report. The music school has spawned many high-profile musicians, such as the drummer for Saturday Night Live, members of Mellencamp's and Bruce Springsteen's bands, as well as the bassist for the Tonight Show orchestra.

Lee Williams, the booking agent for local and independent-music venue Second Story, said the School of Music is a distinguishing characteristic of the Bloomington music scene.

"We have one of the coolest music schools in the world and it's in a town in Indiana," Williams said.

Being a town with lowing cattle instead of towering skyscrapers does offer other benefits, including the low cost of living in places such as Iowa City.

"We wouldn't have been a band as long as we have because Iowa's a really cheap place, which helps musicians out," Schlif said. "It's really affordable, which really helps all of the bands here."

At Purdue University, two members of West Lafayette's Ice Makers of the Revolution pay $500 a month for a four-bedroom house with a studio for the band to practice in, said the band's vocalist Shawny Anderson.

Bands are also helped out when there's no set scene, as there is in Seattle or Chapel Hill, N.C. There is no set agenda for Iowa City musicians -- popular among the Hawkeyes are salsa, hillbilly rock and thrash bands -- and often, that's exactly what Iowa musicians want.

"We would never move, other than moving to another smaller town in the U.S.," Schlif said. "When we first went on tour, people were like, 'What? You're from where? When are you leaving?' "

And if nothing else, the availability of music compared to other forms of entertainment helps small-town college music scenes.

"Going to see live music is sort of a tradition in a rural area like Iowa, which has always helped us," Schlif said. "People here are really open-minded, which might not be the stereotype, but I think it's true."

Although traditions such as these will probably never outshine memories of Big Ten athletic glory, this handful of artistic noisemakers doesn't need recruiting officers to give the musicians their due.

Groebner traveled 1,000 miles to a Big Ten school with two different team mascots and Badger pride galore -- but he opts to spend his time at smoky clubs instead of pep rallies.

"I'm kind of an obsessive booster," he said.